


in a city of ice

by humanveil



Category: Z Nation (TV)
Genre: Multi, Pre-Season/Series 05, nonsensical softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: The road to Newmerica.





	in a city of ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murdergatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/gifts).



> a belated birthday gift for a very special friend ♡♡

Winter, again. Or, at least, the beginnings of. Time is something that is lost on all of them—the Gregorian calendar long since redundant. 

It doesn’t matter much either way. Murphy doesn’t care what it is, just what he feels, and what he _feels_ is cold. Bone-deep, biting cold.  

“Whoever’s bright idea this was,” he starts to grumble, the rest of the sentence unintelligible as he kicks a leg out and rolls over for the umpteenth time. They’ve got a little, patchy blanket draped across them and he pulls at it, wraps it securely around himself while he mumbles about _freezing balls_ and _feeling good about yourself_. 

The two bodies beside him shift, call out cohesive complaints with his name attached; one asking him to shut up as the other tells him to _stop moving._

“But I’m cold!” he says, like they don’t know. Like he hasn’t been saying it constantly for the last three days. Like the weather doesn’t effect them, too. 

His cry is ignored. Sarge’s elbow connecting with his rib cage as she grabs the blanket back. “You’re in the middle,” she says, one leg shifting forward so it slips between Murphy’s and brushes 10K’s. “Stop hogging it.” 

Murphy frowns. Looks like he’s about to argue as 10K snorts behind him: soft and low, his breath warm on the nape of Murphy’s neck. 

“We can always kick you out,” 10K tells him, half-teasing, half-serious. When Murphy twists to look behind him, he sees 10K’s lips quirked at the corner. Like he thinks his suffering is funny. 

Murphy huffs. Turns. Shifts again as be settles down and burrows in the warmth their bodies radiate. “I’ll be good,” he says: mumbled, over-exaggerated. Laced with sarcasm. 

He doesn’t need to see them roll their eyes to know that they do. 


End file.
